


Ours to Win or Lose

by blueboxspoilers



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Amnesia, M/M, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Soulmates, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-19 09:56:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22809262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueboxspoilers/pseuds/blueboxspoilers
Summary: When you find your soulmate young, it makes people nervous.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 30
Kudos: 116





	1. Like a Fragile Glass Teacup

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story posted to AO3. Thanks for taking the time to read it!

**Eddie Kaspbrak is eight years old when he meets his soulmate.**

A boy that Eddie had never met came running across the playground, shrieking happily (and LOUD), his glasses askew and his hair a complete and utter mess in the breeze he stirred up by his movement. Eddie could see the collision course the boy was on, and he tried to duck out of the way, but at the last second the boy tripped and fell right into him. They landed in a heap and Eddie felt like he couldn't breathe. His entire body was hot and cold and tingly, like he'd snapped his spine (he probably **had**. It would be just his luck to fall on the playground and get hurt so badly), and he blinked up at the boy, who was staring down at him with a look of wonder.

"You knocked me down," he said, frowning just a little. "I think you hurt me."

"I'm Richie," the boy said, "I don't think you're hurt. Sorry I ran into you. I just, uh, was running from my friends and the next thing I knew, _boom_ , we were on the ground!"

"I feel funny," Eddie said, starting to sniffle a little. "I really think you hurt me."

"Nu uh. I feel it, too. It's not from bein' hurt." He got up carefully and held his hand out to Eddie. "Come on, I'll take you to the nurse and she can check you out to make sure, but that's not..." Richie paused. "You know about soulmarks, right?"

"Of course I do," Eddie said, standing up surprisingly easy for someone who'd just been nearly paralyzed. He took Richie's hand without meaning to, and the feeling came back, hot and cold and buzzy and... well, not bad. He blinked again, his tears almost forgotten, though one did drop from his eye and roll down his cheek just a little way. "I don't think this is... that's not how Mommy says it feels."

"Did your mom ever find hers?" Richie asked, tilting his head.

Eddie shook his head, then leaned gently against Richie, who gently patted his hair.

"Then how would she know?"

"Oh," Eddie said softly, amazed that this boy had just changed everything he thought about the world in a few words. "I'm Eddie, by the way."

"Well, Eds, come on and I'll take you to the nurse. I bet I'm right, though." Richie smiled, then waved his friends off with a flip of his hand.

"Don't call me that, I don't like it," Eddie said, frowning just a little.

"Spaghetti, then," Richie nodded, laughing again when Eddie glared daggers at him.

\-----

The thing about finding your soulmate so young was that it made people nervous. Eddie's mother, Sonia, had always been nervous anyway, and it became twice as bad when he came home from school with a note from the nurse about the situation. Richie had been right, of course, and by the end of the day, the two boys were enrolled in class together, sitting in the same unit of desks so that they could reach out and touch each other every once in a while. It was important, the note explained, that the boys be allowed to see each other as often as possible for their bond to grow strong. They would need to sleep near each other if possible. Sonia, however, refused. She wasn't going to let her Eddie bear sleep somewhere else, and she couldn't imagine letting Richie stay over. Absolutely not.

"But Mommy, it says," Eddie said, and he knew he was whining a little bit, but it ached to be away from Richie. Something deep in his body told him it was NOT okay, and he needed to fight back a little bit. "It says we have to, if we can. And we can! He can sleep on my bed and I can sleep on the cot with lots of blankets and pillows!"

"Absolutely _not_ ," Sonia said, shaking her head. "I don't care if he is your soulmate, I'm your mother, and I get the final say."

Eddie stomped up the stairs to his room, flinging himself on the bed and falling to tears almost immediately. It didn't take long before he was asleep, his misery only making it easier to avoid doing anything else.

He woke up to a light tapping on the window at around ten pm, and when he sat up and looked, terrified it was going to be a vampire or a monster or something, he saw Richie's big glasses and smiling mouth instead. He opened the window and leaned out. "Mommy says no," he said, already feeling the tears welling up again.

"I know. My parents talked to her. But she isn't my mom, I don't have to listen to her," he said, "back up, I'm coming in."

"You're what?" But he did back up, and then Richie was through the window, closing it behind him. "If she finds you here, she's going to be so mad," Eddie explained, his voice almost a whisper.

"She won't find me," Richie said, tugging Eddie toward the bed. "Come on, let's go to sleep. We've got school in the morning." He got into the bed and pressed up against the wall, holding his arms out for Eddie, who climbed in and curled up with his back against Richie's front.

The world made sense again, and Eddie closed his eyes, falling into the most peaceful sleep he may have ever had.


	2. Bitter Waters Flowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie loses his soulmate at fourteen years old.

**Richie Tozier is fourteen years old when he loses his soulmate.**

Bill came over and thudded down a whole stack of books on the table beside where Richie had his head down. He looked up from his notes and raised an eyebrow at his best friend. "Problems Billy? Or did you just need to set down fifty-seven books so you can pick up twenty more?"

"Funny," Bill said, shaking his head. "W-where is Eddie? I was supposed to meet him this morning to give him that book by W-winchester."

Richie rolled his eyes. "Oh, Sonia was on one this morning. She came in while we were laying in bed together, literally doing nothing untoward at all, and she made me leave and told me not to wait for Eds because she was going to bring him to school late. They had--" and here he raised up his hands, doing a double quote action, his voice going high and annoying and shockingly like Sonia Kaspbrak's voice, "'A TALK'," and he dropped back into his own voice, "to have. So god knows when she'll let him come to school." He looked back down at his notes, mildly relieved that (supposedly) he and Eddie were at the point that they didn't have to be together constantly to not get itchy and unnerved. Which was probably why today was annoying him so much, actually, because he _did_ feel that way, and it had been at least three years since that had happened.

Stan peeked in the door of the library and looked relieved, then not-so-relieved, as he ran toward Bill and Richie. The librarian quietly told him to slow down, and he said "it's an _emergency_ " in a tense voice as he kept going. By the time he got to the table, Richie was already starting to stand up. "She took him away. She packed him in the car and she _took_ him," Stan said.

"W-who?" Bill asked, his eyes widening.

"Eddie," Richie said, already heading toward the door. "That bitch took Eddie, and I'm going to fucking kill her."

\-----

Richie ran to Eddie's house. The front door was locked, of course, but he not only had a key that Eds had secretly gotten made for him, but he could easily climb into Eddie's room, since he'd been doing it since they were eight. He wasn't sure he could deal with Eddie's room at the moment, though. He wasn't prepared for what that was going to look like, what it would mean. He used his key instead and opened the door, his entire body tensing as he noted the things that were missing. Sonia's chair, the kitchen table and chairs, the food, the TV, everything that was sentimental or glued to Sonia's ass was gone. He went up the stairs two at a time, and stood in front of Eddie's door with a heavy heart. He opened the door slowly, and then fell to his knees there, his wobbly knees unable to keep him upright.

The room was stripped bare. The only things left were things he'd left behind in the past few months (the hoodie Eddie had been wearing yesterday, a few shirts, a pair of shoes), a few books (Lord of the Rings, Richie's copy of The Phantom Tollbooth, Ender's Game, and the scary book that Eddie had been reading last night--the book had a hissing cat on the cover, but it wasn't really about animals at all. Eddie had explained it was about loss and not being able to give people up), and some trash. Sonia Kaspbrak had effectively ripped Eddie out of the world, and Richie had no idea where to even start looking. He was going to throw up. In fact, he stood up and quickly ran to the bathroom, heaving into the toilet, tears choking him as he retched again and again, his heart shattering further with every beat.


	3. The World at Your Back, Your Heart at Your Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie is fourteen-and-a-half when he forgets.

**Eddie Kaspbrak is fourteen-and-a-half years old when he forgets his soulmate.**

He was in the hospital for the sixth time in as many months. He'd been depressed, his mother said, sluggish, unfocused. He needed _help_.

The fact of the matter was that he didn't need help, he needed _Richie_. His entire body ached like he'd broken every bone and let them heal wrong. His mind chanted Richie's name constantly. His _soul_ cried out for its match. He felt dead inside, and he hated his mother more than anything in the world for it. It was all her fault. He never questioned that. Never second-guessed it. It just simply _was_ , as sure as anything else in the universe. The sun rose every morning, it couldn't rain all the time, the snow would surely fall in mid-winter in New York, and Sonia Kaspbrak was the reason Eddie felt like half of what made him himself was missing.

Each time she brought him to the hospital, there were meetings between his mother and doctors, whispered conversations so he couldn't hear what they were saying, slightly raised voices that got covered up by his mother's higher pitched tone explaining herself, more meetings. It had always gone the same way, until this time. This time, a social worker came in and talked to him. There were more meetings, murmurs in the hallway outside of his room, smug looks from his mother and his aunts, and finally the morning came that he looked up and had a full team of people standing in front of him.

"What?" he asked, looking up from his listless food with his listless face, speaking with his listless voice.

"We've come to a decision on your case," one of the doctors said, and Eddie raised his eyebrows into his hairline. He was confused. He wasn't aware that any kind of decision was even being sought. But, here was a doctor he'd spoken to perhaps twice in all of his visits, looking down at the chart in his hand that he'd pulled from the end of the bed. "There's a procedure that we have been--" He paused, something on his face making Eddie almost laugh. He looked like he'd eaten something sour and vaguely rotten as he proceeded to finish his thought, "--advised to do."

"Who advised it?" he asked, looking directly at his mother. It had to be her, didn't it? He was still a minor, so surely his mother's many arguments had led to this moment.

"Oh. Well, uh. Several lawyers, and, well, ultimately a judge actually made the decision. That it would be in your best interest."

One of the nurses scoffed and was making a face like she'd love to rip apart the people that had decided it. Eddie appreciated it immensely. At least someone was still looking out for him, even if she hadn't had much of a voice, from what it sounded like.

"What procedure?" he asked.

"It's a very small surgery, It only takes about twenty minutes, and you'll be up and moving again in no time." A second doctor answered that question, and Eddie looked toward her, a deep frown settling on his face.

"What. Is. The. Procedure?" he asked her, point blank.

"The surgery will be to block off a small portion of your brain that affects memory. Specifically, the memory of your... soulmate." She dropped her voice low as she said the last word, as if it was something dirty. Or maybe like she was ashamed that she had any part in this entire thing. How he hoped for the second one.

Eddie's eyes went wide. "What? No, absolutely not. NO! You're not taking him away from me. My memory is all I have left of him! She's keeping me away from him, and I can't... I can't lose him like this, too. Please. Don't do this. Mommy, don't do this," he said, choking on the fact that he had slipped so easily back into calling her Mommy. It was a sure sign of desperate times.

"You're not functioning," she said, huffing a little. "You refuse to do anything. You're not even studying, Eddie bear."

"If you do this, I will never speak to you again," he said, staring hard at her. He focused his mind on the seething rage he felt inside. He would never forgive her.

"You won't remember to be angry," she answered, her smug face making him want to scream.

\-----

He was put under, still fighting. It took three nurses, two orderlies, and his _fucking mother_ to keep him in the bed, held down until the medication sent him under. The procedure took, as they'd promised, no more than twenty minutes. He woke up, docile and still. He couldn't think why he had been in the hospital at all, but he was ready for Mommy to take him home. Some part of him tried to remind him he was angry, but he didn't feel angry anymore. He didn't feel... anything. Not really. Not sad, not happy, not full of energy, not tired. He just _was_.

Just as his mother wanted him.


	4. The Life That's Waiting for Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie forgets at seventeen, but it's for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (warning: this chapter does contain some suicidal ideation on Richie's part. If that kind of thing upsets you, please be careful. The mention of it is brief, and non-graphic, but it is there.)

**Richie Tozier is seventeen years old when he, too, forgets his soulmate.**

It had been three years of frantic searching. He had called every Kaspbrak he could find, every Wittier/Whittier (because God knew he couldn't quite remember the spelling of Eddie's aunts' last name, so he took the chance to try the most likely spellings) in all of the general area of New York state he knew Sonia's sisters lived in. It had all come to nothing. Either their number was unlisted, or Sonia had gotten to her sisters long before he did and had them lie. If he had to guess, it would have been that option, but he had no way of knowing, not really.

Three years since the day he'd gone through the nearly-empty house, stumbling through rooms that had been filled with light and laughter the day before. Three years of stumbling through a life that was darker and far less fulfilling than the one he'd had for such a short time. Six years hadn't been enough time. They had been so _young_. He thought they had forever. That even if the first few years were hard, that they would wake up one day and be eighteen and free. What were a few years of dealing with Eddie's mom when they'd have the rest of forever to make up for it? It shouldn't have ended the way it did. It was like Eddie had died, at least to Richie's heart. It hurt like having your skin flayed from your body in stripes, wounds that would never heal. It was like bleeding nearly to the point of death with every breath.

Torture. It was torture. Three years of the kind of torture that led far stronger people than he was to pray for death. But somehow, he kept moving forward. He went to school, he joined debate, he learned how to paint with oils that took forever to dry and watercolors that ran across the page when he dripped tears on them, he studied with Stan and Billy, he laid across his bed with Bev smoking cigarettes and bitching about their lives... he survived. Barely, but it had to count for something, didn't it?

He turned seventeen on a mild March day. He drove himself to school, he drove home, he kissed his mother on her cheek on his way back out the door, he drove to the Barrens. He sat on the hood of his car with a bottle of Jack and a handful of pills, but before he could start doing something permanently stupid, his friends showed up. Bill flopped down on the hood of the car beside him, reached over, and pulled him close. Bev and Ben sat together on the grass. Stan, ever the steady savior, dumped the pills into the standing water and opened the Jack, passing it around to everyone to share. It was Mike, though, that finally spoke.

"We've been watching you die for almost three years, Richie. We aren't going to stand here and watch you finish the job. Something has to be done. We all know that, but none of us is letting you fucking die. You can be mad at us if you want to be--" he paused, and Richie just shook his head at him, tears rolling into his ears from the way he was laying against Billy, "--or don't. But there are other ways, Rich. It sucks. Trust me, we all think you've been dealt a shit hand in all of this, but dying? When somewhere out there, Eddie _still exists_? That's not happening."

"I can't keep living like this," Richie said, his voice low and choked and as raw as the wounds on his heart were always going to be.

"Nobody's asking you to," Stan said, handing the bottle to Richie, who took a long swig. "Mikey's right. There are other ways. We've all been looking into it. We think maybe... it's time to do something else."

"Like what? You got some fucking way to make me forget?" Richie laughed a bitter laugh, then looked from one friend to the next, a slow kind of realization hitting him. "Oh my God. You _do_. You're serious. You want me to fucking _forget him_?"

"Not forever, honey," Bev said softly. "Just for a little while. Just until you can... heal, a little."

"This isn't the kind of thing that _heals_ , Bev."

"But it could be," Mike said, his voice patient and unerringly kind. "There are ways, and we would support you through it. Just like we've been supporting you every single day since Sonia took Eddie away. No matter what choice you make, Richie, we're going to be here to support you. Losers never give up on each other. You know that. And you don't have to decide today, or tomorrow, or next month. We're just saying that before you do anything... extreme that you look into your options. We're just asking you to promise not to die before you give yourself the chance to have a life."

He nodded, slowly. He promised, and then he drank down as much of the bottle of Jack as they would let him.

\-----

Two months after his birthday, he went under the knife. In a surgery shockingly like one that had happened in another hospital to another boy two-and-a-half years prior, the memory of his soulmate was detached from the rest of Richie's mind. The dark-haired boy with the intense gaze and the fear of germs didn't fade from his mind over a matter of days, or even moments, he was simply and completely _gone_.

It no longer hurt him to breathe. He slept like a child, he laughed with his friends, he moved to the top of his class, and he never even thought for a moment that anything might be missing. It still took a month or two before his friends really seemed to let go of some of the tension they'd been holding around him, but once they had everything was... perfect.

Just the way everyone had hoped it would be.


	5. The Difference Between Giving Up and Letting Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie meets Myra

**Edward Kaspbrak is twenty-six years old when he meets the woman he will marry.**

Eddie was exhausted when his phone rang. He fumbled for it, dropping it onto the floor as the ringtone he'd set for his mother played out, snatching him from his deep concentration on the case he'd been working on for the last four hours. He grumbled a little as he finally got the phone into his hand and then he hit the button to connect the call, raising the phone to his ear. "Hi Mom. I told you I was going to run late tonight," he said into the phone, settling back in his chair again. "I'm working on the Shelbidine case, and you know how exacting that's been."

"Eddie. Eddie bear. I don't feel well." Sonia's voice came across the phone, and she certainly didn't _sound_ like she felt well. In fact, her voice was the weakest Eddie had heard it since the time she'd had pneumonia and she'd wound up in the Intensive Care Unit for three days.

"Mommy?" he said, the panic of her being ill already striking him hard. He stood from his desk, tugging his coat on almost frantically. "What's wrong? Do I need to call the ambulance to come get you? I can meet you at the hospital." Without thinking about it, he hit the buttons he needed to to save his work, and clicked the menu to shut the computer down. He couldn't leave it running if he wouldn't be in tomorrow, and if Mommy was sick enough to call him away from his work, then it had to be bad. He might not be back for a couple of days, even.

"My heart, Eddie, it's my heart, I'm sure of it. I feel so weak," she said. "My arm feels weak... I need you to come get me. Come take me to the hospital, Eddie. Please. I think I'm dying."

It wasn't the first time she'd said things like that. It wasn't even the hundredth time. If he was smart, he would look back on when she said things like it, and notice patterns, but he never thought about it when she wasn't sick, and when she was... well, it was all-consuming. As it was, now, he was already tensing his entire body, ready to argue with her. "Mom, I can't. I can't get you to the car safely if it's that bad. Let me call the ambulance, and they can get you. I'll meet you at the ER, and I'll be with you the whole time."

She sighed one of those sighs that was almost bigger than she was, but he knew he'd won for once, anyway. He hurried her off the phone and called 911, directing them to the house, and racing them to get to the Emergency Room at the hospital that was a mere fifteen minutes from home, but nearly forty from his office. Somehow, he got there only eight minutes after them, but Mommy was angry anyway.

\-----

It had been a long day. It hadn't helped that he hadn't slept the night before, his guilt at his lateness (guilt that was fed early and often by his mother's words) keeping him awake and alert at Sonia's bedside. She'd been admitted after three hours in the ER, monitors strapped to her chest and stomach, EKGs and tests run throughout the night, nurses stopping in every thirty to forty-five minutes to check an alarm or a machine that needed another medication pushed through it. It seemed every time he started to doze off, either Sonia would wail in pain, or another shattering sound would come from the room, and he had finally given up and perched on the hard chair beside the bed (it was meant to collapse into a bed-like situation, but it was dreadfully uncomfortable, even at the best of times), watching the machines feed lines of information across dull screens. Once he was awake and had reassured his mother he wasn't going anywhere and that he wouldn't be sleeping, she finally fell asleep herself. It was ironic, but only fitting, he supposed.

In the morning, he'd finally gotten a single 90 minute cycle of sleep, and then the doctors had started arriving. There were a lot of words tossed about (angina, hig blood pressure, atrial fibrillation, possible stroke, systolic heart failure, atherosclerosis), all as possibilities for why they were here this time. The doctors spoke about her weight, which she flapped a hand about, and her lack of self-care, which she started to cry over, and the day had simply dragged on and on and on until Eddie felt like he might actually pull his own hair out. Now, dinner had been brought to Sonia's room, and when he'd started to fuss about the choices she'd made (meatloaf covered with salty gravy, mac and cheese gluey with six different kinds of cheese, carrots dripping with butter and brown sugar, sweet tea (three glasses), two kinds of cake, cheesecake with canned cherries) pointing out what the doctor had said only that morning, she'd told him to go find dinner for himself.

There was a restaurant downstairs, and he walked in, looking through the cases and picking up a few little things (a roasted vegetable couscous salad, one string cheese, cut fruit) before he made his way to the cash register. The woman there smiled at him, and he smiled back, looking toward the menu over her head. He had a terrible time deciding, and he stepped aside to let other people go first. He was about to simply put all of his things back and walk out again when a woman walked up beside him. She crossed her arms, looking at him and tilted her head a little to the side. "You should have the Greek turkey burger," she said, "and pick something to drink. You're living on coffee today, and it's going to make you shaky and that much more likely to fall apart."

He looked at her, incredulous. "Do I _know_ you?" he asked, shaking his head.

"My dad's room is across the hall from your mom's. I notice things." She gave him a quick smile. "I'm Myra, by the way. Not that you asked."

He blinked. He _hadn't_ asked. That was rude of him. "Sorry. I'm... Eddie. Edward, but almost everyone calls me Eddie. What's a Greek turkey burger?"

She laughed, rolling her eyes a little at him. "Do you know what tzatziki is?" He shook his head at her and she gently nudged him toward the cashier. "Hey Coleen. This is Eddie. His mom's on sixth. He's getting all of that boring stuff he's holding, and I'm hooking him up with a Greek turkey burger, sweet potato fries, and--" She looked back at him, assessing, practically looking him up and down "--and one of those fancy-ass smoothies."

Eddie felt almost bowled over by Myra's very personality, but he let out a low laugh. "Uh, a peach smoothie, please? Berries sometimes give me hives."

\-----

On Thursday, he had to go to work again, and when he hurried back to the hospital at the end of the day, he was surprised to find someone else already in the room. He felt his brows draw together a little until he actually got closer and realized that it was simply Myra, though he'd thought for a moment that... well, no, that was silly. His mother was still clearly in the bed, and Myra was in the chair. The two of them were... laughing together? That was strange.

"Oh, Eddie, hello," Myra said, smiling at him as she realized he was standing there.

"Eddie bear, why didn't you tell me you'd met this lovely young woman?" Sonia asked, giving him a look. "She came over today to introduce herself, and I had to say I hadn't heard a single thing about her!"

"I'm sorry, Mother," he said, going over to kiss her cheek, "but you've met now, properly? I could still do an introduction, if you like? Mother, this is Myra, her father is across the hall. Myra, this is my mother, Sonia. There, now the two of you have met." He smiled tightly, then pulled up another of the chairs, sitting down beside the bed.

"Oh, don't mind him, Myra, he's been at work all day, and he's always fussy afterward." Sonia flapped her hand at him, dismissively.

"Oh, I don't mind, Mrs. Kaspbrak. I'm sure he's dealing with a lot of stress, between full-time work and having to be here at the hospital." She turned toward him. "Eddie? Would you like me to run down and get you something for dinner? I can bring it upstairs for you."

He felt a flush of shame for how he'd acted (a little sarcastic, a little sassy). "No, no, that's fine. I'll grab something later. You don't have to do that, Myra, but thank you."

Sonia looked them over, from one to the other, her eyes lighting up a little. "Why don't you both go down _together_? My dinner should be here anytime, and Eddie likes to fuss about what I've chosen. It'll get me some peace and quiet."

Eddie gave her a look, but found himself standing, anyway. "That's fine. I mean, if you'd like to, Myra? Or you could go sit with your father and I could bring something up to you?"

Myra smiled, the look both soft and slightly _knowing_ somehow. "I'll go with you. I've seen your choices at the restaurant." She laughed, the sound matched by Sonia from the bed. "Come on, Eddie. Let's leave your poor mother alone so she can eat in peace." She turned toward Sonia, reaching a hand out to pat the older woman's. "I'll have him back up to you in an hour, Mrs. Kaspbrak. And I'll see you tomorrow. I still want to hear the story about Eddie breaking his arm." She glanced toward Eddie, who was now making a face at his mother, and laughed again. Then she turned fully toward him and reached out her hand to touch his arm. "Come on, then. Show a girl a good time."

He could tell from the smile on Sonia's face that she approved, wholeheartedly. It made something in his chest tighten up in anger, but he didn't know why, so he simply turned away and led Myra out of the room, and down the hall toward the elevators.


	6. Like the Sound of a Distant Bell, Ringing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie's best friend is finally getting married.

**Richie Tozier is thirty years old when his best friend decides to (finally) get married.**

Bev rang the buzzer at Richie's apartment, leaning on it until he finally got up and hit the door button. Of course, by the time she got up the stairs, his door was open, but he had already shuffled back into his room. The daylight was far too bright, and Bev had the kind of energy Rich only had when he'd slept until at least three. It wasn't anywhere _near_ three now, and he didn't even have to pick up his phone to check. Of course, he _did_ pick up his phone once he was back in bed, tucked under the covers and hating his life.

"Beverly, I love you, but I was up until 5:45 this morning, and it is now 9:14 AM. Somebody better have died," he said, grumbling as she flopped herself across him on the bed. "Jesus Christ, get off me, you fucking witch," he said, laughing a little as she pulled the covers down off his head.

"Nobody died, Richie. But, Ben and I finally set a date for the wedding, and since you're going to be my Man of Honor, I figured you'd want to know the details." She gave him a once-over. "You look like shit, Rich."

"Thanks, princess," he replied, pushing her off of him gently. He forced himself upright again, giving her a blinky look. "You guys actually set a date? Is it sometime this decade? Because if not, I'm going the fuck back to sleep."

"Riiiiichie. It's April 14th!"

He blinked a little. "You know that's only eight months away, right? You, miss fashionista, are planning to get an entire wedding together in _eight months_?"

Bev thumped him in the shoulder. "That's why I woke you up! Get up! We have _so much to do_."

He groaned, falling back. "Bevvy... I'm dying."

"Eight. Months. Richard. Get up."

He gave up, knowing he was never going to win against her. He never did.

\-----

It was three months later that Bev made a call that made Richie... confused.

"So, do you remember Andrew? That guy I had working for me last year?"

Richie thought hard about it, trying to bring the younger man's face to mind. He remembered the name, but he couldn't fully picture him. "Uh, kinda? I remember that he existed, basically."

"Okay, good enough. So, he got married in February, and his husband insisted on them having a risk manager, which is like, the best idea ever, right?" Bev sounded nearly _bouncy_ about the idea.

"Um, sure? I mean, I have no clue what a risk manager even does, but--"

"They analyze different things in the wedding. They figure out what the risks are, they help you address them, so it makes it more likely you won't lose money in the whole thing."

Richie pretended to snore, then laughed as Bev made a noise of protest. "Sorry. It just sounds _so_ romantic. And so fun! What a joyful job _that person_ must have. Do they even believe in love?"

Bev laughed, covering the phone as she did so as not to encourage him. Hell, he didn't even have to think about why she was doing it. She'd done it thousands of times in their lives. "Richard, shut up. The point is, the guy Andrew suggested is right in NYC, so it works out great, since everything else is there, too--"

"I still don't get why you chose New York when there's so many nicer places on the West Coast. Or even the Midwest if you _have_ to have it outside of California." He scoffed a little.

"Because, Ben's grandma is just outside of New York, and it's easier to plan things around her instead of trying to figure out how to get her and her two nurses and six dogs on a plane. _Not_ the point, though! I actually recognized the guy's name, and I thought there was _no way_ it was who I thought it was, but I looked him up online, and it _is_." She paused, like she was waiting for him to say something.

"O...kay? Do I get a hint or what? I don't know anyone who's in risk management, so..."

"Does the name Edward Kaspbrak ring a bell?" Her voice was even giddier, if that was possible.

"Um... no? Should it?" Now he was even more confused.

"Really? Not even a little bit?" A little of the sparkle had gone out of her voice. She sounded disappointed, which was weird.

"No. The ony Edward I know is the fucking vampire from Twilight, babe. Unless this guy is covered in sparkles?"

"Ew. No. He's not a vampire. Gross. Huh. Okay. Well... I invited him to the wedding. I mean, he's doing all this work for it, so he might as well see the fruits of his labor, right? I thought you guys might--" she paused again, like she was putting things together in her head. "get along. I thought you might remember his name and want to see him."

"Is this a setup? Are you trying to get me to date your risk manager?" Richie laughed, now. Of course that's what she'd been going on about. Bev was weirdly romantic for someone who didn't really seem to give a shit about any of it. And she probably thought he was lonely. It _had_ been about two years since his last real date. Maybe he _was_ lonely. "Is he planning on showing up to the shindig?"

"Yeah. He didn't really know why he accepted, he said, but he did. So he's going to be there. But, Rich... he's married. It's not like... I mean, he might..." She fumbled through her words.

"So it's _not_ a date thing? Thank god. I'm tired of you guys trying to set me up with random people."

She made a low sound. "Right. Right, exactly. Not a date thing. I just thought you guys might get to be friends or something. I need my Man of Honor to help me sending messages and stuff to him through the rest of the planning, you know? But you should totally go online and look him up, so you can see who you're talking to, too."

"God, you're an odd little muffin, Bev, but I love you. I'll look the guy up, I promise. Now, I've got two hours to get ready for my show, so if you're done talking about your weird wedding risk management and shit?"

"I'm done," she said, laughing a little. "Go do your routine. I'll pretend I know nothing about it, even though you laid it all out for me that one time. I do _not_ need to think about your drinking and wild drug binges before going onstage. Be safe, babe. Ben sends his love, too. Break a leg."

"Don't threaten me with a good time," he teased, offering up his goodbyes to her before he hung up. Then, because he'd promised, he looked her risk management guy up. It took him three tries to get the name right (for some reason, he kept typing Eddie, not Edward), and when he did, he spent a long time staring at the guy's face. Intense eyes, perfect hair, tiniest half-smile. There was something about him that unsettled Richie somewhere under his breastbone, but he couldn't even start to say why. Weird.

He got ready for his show way slower than normal. The fact that he stopped to stare at Edward Kaspbrak's picture repeatedly probably didn't help the speed of things.

\-----

"So, my best friends are getting married. And they decided to get this thing called a _risk manager_. Have any of you guys heard of this shit?" He paused, letting the audience react. "So she calls me and she's explaining it to me and acting like a huge weirdo about it all, but then that's kind of par for the course. You guys think I'm weird, you should meet her, seriously. Apparently our old hometown was created to facilitate the weird batch of losers we all turned out to be. So she's telling me about how this uptight dude is hired to _assesses the risks_ in the wedding and tries to make sure you don't lose money... I was like, Bev, it's a _wedding_. I thought the whole point of the parade of bullshit was losing money and impressing everyone you've ever met by how nonchalant your ass is about it. But apparently not! Who knew?"

The audience laughed, and he knew he had them all in the palm of his hand. He pushed up is glasses with his middle finger and bantered on, falling into the steady rythm of setup and punchline and back again. It was comfortable. He was _truly good_ at it. And Bev's little random risk manager guy fit into the whole night like he'd been a puzzle piece made to slot right in where the routine had been missing something.

\-----

"Edward Kaspbrak's office," the mild voice on the other end of the phone said, and Richie blinked long and slow. "Hello?" the voice came again, after the silence had stretched on too long.

"Oh, uh, yeah, hi. My name is Richie Tozier, and I'm the Man of Honor at the Marsh/Hanscom wedding? Beverly asked me to call and update you on some things?" He stopped, waiting for the other man to say something. The silence went on too long (at least from the other side this time!), and Richie cleared his throat. "Uh, are you still there?"

"I'm sorry, what did you say your name was, again?"

"Um. Richie Tozier. T-o-z-i-e-r. With Beverly Marsh and Benjamin Hanscom's wedding?" He started to pace a little, his eyebrows drawing together a little. "Bev said she was going to let you know I was going to call about things? I'm the contact guy for the wedding?"

"No. I mean, yes, she told me. Sorry. I just, I'm sorry, I'm going to need to call you back in a little while, Mr. Tozier. If that's okay?"

Richie frowned. "Oh, yeah, of course. Sorry. I'm free the rest of the day, so anytime. I didn't mean to interrupt your day or anything."

"You didn't interrupt my day. I just need to check on a few things and have the folder in front of myself before we talk." He sounded much more professional now, and Richie let himself relax. Okay. He hadn't fucked things up. Good. "Um... I can give you a call back in about a half hour or forty-five minutes, if that works for you?"

Richie nodded, then realized he was on a phone call and made an affirmative noise, instead. "Yeah, that's perfect. Like I said, I'm free, so whenever works for you. I'll be here."

"Thanks, Rich. I'll call you back soon." The words were familiar. Like the man on the other side of the phone _knew him_.

Richie bliked again, that same long, slow blink from a minute ago. "Yeah. Sure. Talk to you soon." He disconnected the call and went to put his phone down, kind of looking off into the distance. "Eds," he said faintly, before focusing on the world around him again. "Nothing like interrupting a guy's workday, Tozier. You are the KING of that shit. Jesus. Now, food before I starve to death." He put the cell phone down and wandered toward the kitchen, his mind fully dismissing all of the weirdness of the last five minutes.


	7. To The Nothing I Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding, a revelation, an old familiar voice.

**Edward Kaspbrak is thirty years old when he looks across a crowded reception and catches the Man of Honor's eye.**

Myra wasn't at all excited about going to the Marsh/Hanscom wedding. In fact, she'd made several pleas against it in the weeks leading up to it, but he'd dismissed her every whine, and by the time April 12 rolled around, Eddie had sat her down and put it into the plainest words he could think of.

"I'm going to this wedding. My clients asked me to attend, and I am going. If you want to sit around at home by yourself while I go and drink expensive wine and hobnob with people who are paying me a metric _assload_ of money? By all means, sit here and be bored and miserable stuffing your face with Reese's cups while watching reruns of terrible early-2000s comedies. That's your choice."

Of course she'd cried about how mean he was to her, and he'd had to apologize for snapping (four times!) and promise her a new dress to go to the wedding in, but she'd finally relented. Not that she didn't try one last time before getting into her new dress on the day of the wedding, but Eddie had simply given her a steady look and she'd gone to pull on the shiny satin monstrosity she'd finally chosen in a color the tag claimed was "mocha" but Eddie would argue until his dying day was a weird purple-brown color.

She did start to tear up one more time, on their way to the venue, but he'd simply reached out and held her hand and told her she looked lovely, and it had seemed to soothe her enough to get them to the wedding in the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens. It was a beautiful site, and Eddie spent the time before the wedding started going over little facts he had learned about the place in his analysis. That, too, seemed to soothe her, and as the wedding actually started she was fully smiling and blushing prettily in a way she hadn't for far too long.

He loved her, then. He smiled back at her and wrapped his arms around her large waist, whispering sweet words into her ear as they stood watching the bride walk down the aisle. It was this that stopped him from turning his world off its axis earlier. It was the slight curl of her hair, twisting around to tickle at his cheek as he leaned to press a kiss to the curve of her throat, it was the soft huff of a giggle that slipped from her as she turned her head enough to nuzzle into his temple, it was the tiny swish sound her dress made as they sat down and the ceremony started. He hadn't noticed the rest of the bridal party, even the man he'd had numerous phone calls with over the months.

It was a mistake, but not one that would last the rest of the evening.

\-----

"Hey, you're the risk manager guy Bev hired, aren't you?" The curly haired man that stopped in front of Eddie gave him the kind of assessing look usually reserved for teenage boys coming to pick up teenage girls for prom.

"Oh, yes," he said, reaching out his hand to shake the other man's hand. "I'm Edward Kaspbrak."

The other man said something under his breath, and Eddie could have sworn it was 'yeah, no shit', but he had no idea what would prompt such a response. "I'm Stan. Uris." He practically stared him down.

"It's nice to meet you, Stan. Please, call me Eddie. Are you--" he paused, "a friend of the couple? Or related? You were in the wedding party, right?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm a friend of theirs. I'm friends with _everyone_ in the wedding party."

"That's great. It must be nice to have good friends like that. Get to celebrate together and everything." Eddie wasn't sure he'd ever had as awkward a conversation.

"You really don't recognize _anyone_ here?" Stan looked him over again, his eyes narrowing.

"I've talked to people in the wedding party, but... should I?"

Stan made a huff of a sound, turning toward the table where the wedding party had all been seated, then looked back at Eddie. "You talked to Richie on the phone, right? He was your contact guy? You should meet him face-to-face."

Eddie was about to say something, though he wasn't even sure what when Stan called out over the din of the crowd. "RICH!"

The tall, lanky man with the broad shoulders and the too-big glasses standing next to the bride's chair turned toward them with a big grin on his face, and it was like some kind of bolt of electricity raced into Eddie's chest. Before he could even clock what was happening, he was taking steps toward the man, and it seemed that same draw was pulling Richard Tozier across the floor, as well.

They both stopped when they were mere feet apart, and Eddie bit back every sound his body tried to make. He had to be professional. He had had conversation after conversation over every aspect of this wedding with the man in front of him, surely he could say hello now. "Nice to finally meet you," he said, his entire body vibrating at some frequency he couldn't even try to assess. _This_ was a risk, as surely as any risk he'd ever put down on a piece of paper.

He felt the presence of another body behind him, but he didn't look around. He wasn't even sure he wanted to know.

"Touch each other." The voice was familiar now, though it sounded less cold than it had a few minutes before. Richie glanced up, looking directly at Stan over Eddie's shoulder.

"Stan, what the fuck are you doing?" Richie's voice sounded as shaky as Eddie felt.

"Richie, I love you. You are my best friend. I need you to trust me right now. Just... _touch his hand_ , Richard, please."

"Fuck you, Stan." Richie's gaze was steady and oddly pained and instead of reaching out, he simply gave Eddie a look that was filled with something inexplicable. "Sorry, Eddie. It was nice meeting you. I need to--" He gestured vaguely, and then turned, walking away from them both.

Eddie turned, looking toward the curly-haired man. "I don't know what your goal was, but don't ever do it again," he said, pushing past him to find Myra.

\-----

"Eddie? What happened? What's wrong?" Myra asked, her hands nervously flitting about like wounded butterflies.

"Nothing happened, Marty. I'm just ready to go home." He felt dizzy and achy and sad and suddenly so very _angry_ at everything. "Come on. I'll even stop and get us a big container of ice cream on the way."

She looked around nervously, and he could see in her face she didn't want to leave now. _Probably waiting for the fucking cake_ he thought unkindly, hating himself a little bit for it. She finally bit her lip and nodded her agreement. "Okay. Okay, we can go home. I just need my bag and my wrap..." She stood up and started to turn toward the coat-check area.

"I'll get it, Marty. Just wait for me at the front?" He waited for her nod, and moved to gather her things. Of course, his need to escape the entire situation led him right back into the midle of it, because that was just the way his life went. He was walking down the hall to the coat-check and heard hissed voices, one of which sounded shockingly like Beverly, who should be enjoying her first few married hours.

"Stan, why would you _do_ that? You know how hard it was on him!"

The other voice, clearly Stan, answered back. "Hasn't it been long enough? Hasn't he suffered enough? Richie deserves his life back, Bev, you know that!"

"He does, but Stan, we can't force this. You saw the situation! Eddie is _married_."

Eddie blinked. What the hell did _he_ have to do with this conversation? What, were they trying to...? Set him up with their friend or something? That made no sense. Not even a little.

"Yeah, to someone who is _Sonia Kaspbrak_ made over again. Think about it, Bev! Why would he be with someone just like his mother? Why? Why wouldn't he know about Richie? Sonia had to have done something to him."

He felt that shiver go through him again. They talked like they _knew him_. Like they _knew his life_. They knew his mother's name! What in the fuck was _happening_?

"I don't know. I don't. But we can't just throw them at each other and be like 'hey, remember your soulmate? Here he is! Surprise! Now go play house'! That's not how _any of this_ works."

Eddie felt the world start to tilt sideways. Or... no, that was him. He couldn't breathe.

\-----

Hands. There were hands on his elbows, a low voice both familiar and foreign saying something he was almost certain was meant to be soothing.

"I feel funny," he said, faintly.

"Yeah? No shit, Spaghetti," Richie said, "welcome to the fuckin' club."


End file.
